It's the Little Things in Life

So, I just had an emotional break down and wrote this whole long BLOG post that made no sense (which I printed out to paste in my diary, but decided not to annoy you with), and then I was going to go to bed and just let myself be depressed. Then I started rereading my old posts, and....

Well, it's all just so SILLY. I always stress about my grades -- and I almost always get them up. And if I don't: so what? Like Mrs. Kavmark says, no one's going to remember your grades in ten years anyways. Sure, it matters for getting into college, but I'm not terribly worried about that -- especially since it might be at the expense of my sanity (which I cannot afford to lose).

It's more than that... I've been... I dunno'. Craving adventure, I guess. Sometimes it's hard to not be running around changing the world.
I just -- I want to do something BIG, GRAND, and EXCITING.

But, you know, some of the happiest moments in my life have come from... absolutely nothing. You know, just sitting around basking in the sunshine, or playing cards with a friend, or discussing how we could terrorize guys on dates when we turn sixteen! (Like faking (what do I mean, faking?!) that we're crazy!)

I guess what I'm saying is: Don't take things so seriously.
Would it be nice to do something amazing and save the universe? Yes. I'm not going to pretend that I don't still want that opportunity. But, until then, I'll content myself with feeling good by sharing pineapple.

♥Captain Whitney

♫♪So you wanna' change the world? What are you waiting for? Say you're gonna' start right now? What are you waiting for? It only takes one voice, so come on now and shout it out. Give a little more. What are you waiting for?♪♫

I do still know how to blog...

...but I don't know if I still know how to write. THIS is the best I've been able to do:

It's worse than the worst writer's block.
It's having words and sentences that won't make meaning.
It's having characters with no faces,
stories with no plots,
settings with no doors to let me in.
And I'm scared, out here in the rain, and they won't let me in.
They won't let me in.
There's nothing I can say--
they seem to have taken my words away.
Why has the novelist turned poet?
Why has the author turned to Facebook poster and e-mailer?
Why have I lost my pen, my paper, and my passion?
Why is this stupid thing all I can seem to write?
Where did my words go?

And there isn't any pineapple.... (Did you notice pineapple was missing from my last post?!)

♥Captain Whitney

I'm a galley slave to pen and ink.